


That One Time I Picked Up a Sanga in a Bar

by SonicoSenpai



Series: Just the Smut Please [4]
Category: Lamento -BEYOND THE VOID-
Genre: Cat Ears, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual bondage, Established Relationship, Five Years Later, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Original Universe, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Tails, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 03:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16318637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai
Summary: This one-shot is set in the original Lamento Beyond the Void universe, five years after Leaks' demise, Rai's route, Rai and his Sanga Konoe are doing well as bounty hunters. Both of them are suffering way less from nightmares and doing well as an established couple. This one-shot is written from Rai's POV. He is feeling particularly good after collecting a high bounty and narrates how he plans to reward his Sanga for his progress.





	That One Time I Picked Up a Sanga in a Bar

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I'd try writing consensual non-consent for Kinktober since writing consensual is not my thing. It may come across as extremely out of character, but given that these characters are five years in the future, anything can happen. So give it a chance--and who doesn't like a little fluffy smut?

I see my Sanga standing at the bar, while I am gathering information from the local informant here. I'm considering taking another job since we are back in Ransen. Our last bounty provided us with a hefty sum of money, and Konoe has worked hard on improving his song, and I want to do something special for him.

While I discuss the details of our next target, I happen to glance over my shoulder at my Sanga. While he was alone just a moment ago, now he is flanked by two larger cats, both above average looking, offering to buy him drinks. From the look on his face, they must be paying him some attention, because he is shifting on his feet nervously.

Over the past five years, the adorable kitten has developed into a very attractive cat. His face has filled out into a beautiful, if not stunning, one. His particularly large golden eyes are breathtaking. And his body—well—that is another story. While still small in stature, he is lean and muscular, except for his waist and hips, which are delightfully curvy. When he walks, he attracts lust-filled glances wherever he goes. We are well-known as a bonded pair in this bar, and I am not above starting a fight when someone touches my precious partner or makes him uncomfortable. So I feel relatively safe, leaving him alone for a few minutes. However, I don’t recognize that pair. They must be visiting.

His ears blush a gorgeous pink. They must be making inappropriate comments. Konoe is still a little shy when it comes to sex or his body when comments are spoken aloud. In the bedroom, however, he is a wild animal and lets his voice go. Also, he has become more adventurous lately. In fact—he has asked to play games. 

Lately, we have been playing with consensual non-consent and roleplay. Believe it or not, I heard about roleplay from the old man, who suggested it casually over dinner at his inn. I saw Konoe's eyes light up in a way I hadn't ever seen, though his face was blushing adorably. I pretend I don't know him and approach him as I might a prospective partner. He gets amazingly aroused when I forcibly take him without his permission—often from a public place, just like this one—and I think I will reward him today—and take him by surprise, as well as interrupt those two idiots currently flirting with him.

We have a word that he can use when things are too much—he says “kuim,” which is surprisingly cute and appropriate—although, that didn’t work when we incorporated kuim syrup into our sex play one time. I was tickling him, and he kept saying "Kuim! Kuim!" which I mistakenly took to mean he wanted _more_ syrup for me to lick from his belly when he really wanted me to stop. I have to smile now when I remember that situation. We haven't played with syrup since then. And wow—the old man sure gave us a tongue lashing about cleaning up the hotel room afterward. But I sure did enjoy licking every last drop off his lithe little body.

And thinking about it now makes my fur bristle and blood rush into my hips.

He’s looking uncomfortable, though—and casting his eyes around the room, looking for me. I meet his eyes briefly, wink, and put a scowl on my face. He looks surprised by my expression, and I walk up to the bar and stand in front of him, ignoring the cats trying to talk to him.

“You.” I address Konoe.

“Oy, we are in the middle of talking to this pretty little cat here,” the orange tabby on Konoe’s left growls at me.

“Yeah, _we_ saw him first,” the black and white cat says.

Konoe just stares at me, still surprised.

“I haven’t seen you in these parts before,” I say to Konoe, keeping my words clipped and my voice sharp and aggressive. I drag my eyes deliberately up and down his body like a caress.

Konoe bristles his fur—his tail fluffing out fully in that beautifully attractive way I like, and he lifts it gently at the base, putting the hooked tip deliberately in my sight. His golden eyes meet mine, soft and sweet, and a soft sexy smile playing on his lips.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here, either.”

“Hey,” the tuxedo cat complains to Konoe. “You wouldn’t speak a word to either of us—not even give us the time of day—and you’re giving eye-patch _that_ kind of flirty glance?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” the tabby asks. “You’re a cold-hearted little bitch.”

Konoe turns to the tabby and says icily, “Maybe _you_ just don’t have what it takes to attract my attention.”

The tabby looks flustered. “I-I was g-gonna buy you a drink.”

“I don’t _want_ a drink,” Konoe says.

“What you _want_ ,” I purr softly, but loud enough for the cats standing at the bar to hear, while taking a step closer, “is to have someone rip these clothes off your body, hold you down, caress your skin and lick you till you scream in pleasure.”

Konoe blushes like he did when he was a kitten. It’s absolutely adorable. But he also gets extremely aroused—I can see it in the front of his trousers, which I admire for a moment. I notice the way he purses his mouth, the way his fur fluffs out on those obnoxiously large ears of his, and the way his tail starts to sway. He licks his lips.

“And _that’s_ what you have in mind?” His voice is breathless and quiet, anticipating.

I reach my hands out and stroke his fluffy ears, soft and silky under my fingers, and he pushes his head up into my hand and closes his eyes submissively. Goosebumps shiver across my skin once more—ah, that he can still affect me so strongly is both a blessing and a curse!

“That is just to start, little one. What do you say?” I ask.

“I’ve always been curious about cats your breed. Are you Setsuran?” His voice sounds flirty but non-committal. He strokes the fur on my tail and runs his claws through my hair, making the two cats flanking him seethe with rage. I can’t help smiling at his bold behavior. “You have such beautiful long hair and fur.”

“My size doesn’t frighten you?” I ask. “Perhaps it should, just a little.” I squeeze myself up against his small body, pressing his back up against the bar, and he fluffs himself out a little more.

I use both hands to stroke his sides over the top of his clothes, and craning his neck, I kiss his lips, rubbing my body against his roughly, pressing my erection against him. He moans into my mouth, stroking my back.

Turning him around suddenly, I push him against the bar, so he has to catch himself with his hands. He lets out a small protesting, surprised sound. I stroke his back, his hips, his waist, his buttocks, and his tail. He arches his back and lashes his tail—all fluffed out gorgeously—and he is beautiful. Right here in the bar—everyone can see that gorgeous shape of his, and they can go ahead and watch as he fluffs himself out for _me_ , shivering in delight beneath the touch of _my_ hands. I press my body up against his hips, bending over him to lick his ears and his nape, and sighs leak from his mouth. He smells delicious.

“Come with me,” I murmur, and the two cats who had been trying to pick him up simply watch, mouths agape. 

I lift him off the ground, hoist him up over my shoulder, hearing a soft protest leave his lips. I leave money on the bar, covering the cost of his drink, and wave to the bartender, who has been watching our exchange with amusement.

“Keeping it fresh as always, I see,” he murmurs.

“You know it,” I mutter, patting my Sanga’s pert little bottom as I carry him out of the bar. He is still protesting.

“Wait just a minute! I haven’t agreed to go with you!” Konoe is saying loudly, pretending to struggle and wiggling his body against me.

The other two cats are watching this with shocked expressions, but I simply carry him off, full of excitement and, frankly, pride.  _He is mine._ Several of the regular patrons have seen me do something like this before, and they shake their heads smiling.

“Don’t bother struggling,” I say, stroking his tail gently. “You know you want it.”

I carry him down the streets of Ransen, and I’m sure he’s embarrassed—he hates causing scenes—and I hear the small sound of his voice whisper, “Rai…” but I don’t hear his safe word.

We pass Tokino’s shop, and I nod my head to him, and I boldly pat Konoe’s behind demonstratively, signifying my possession. I see the orange tabby’s cheeks flush as he smiles. He ducks his head, and I know he wishes he were in my place. I know he desires my Sanga as much as I do.

Now—we return to the old man’s inn. However, instead of going upstairs to our room, I set him on the counter in the reception area and cover him with kisses. The reception area is empty, of course—it’s Bardo’s inn, and the man is _never_ there to greet his customers. But Konoe is shy and dislikes doing this kind of thing in public (or at least he _pretends_ to dislike this type of public affection, but his body sure responds quickly to my attention).

His ears are bright pink as I am licking them, grooming them roughly, and I hear him purring loudly, underneath his hissing protests.

“We can’t do this here! Someone might come in and see us!”

“I don’t care,” I whisper in his ears. I didn’t realize this until now, but I felt a little heated to see those two cats flirting with my partner—with _my_ Sanga. He is beautiful and doesn’t realize how adorable and attractive he is. He attracts interest wherever he goes—with his looks, his voice, his gentleness, his general obliviousness—and I’m feeling quite possessive.

I spread his legs wide and press my body in between his, and his purring gets louder—in fact, he gasps slightly when I push myself against him and he is as hard as a rock, pressing against me. He throws his arms around my neck to avoid being pushed off the counter altogether. I love the feel of his body against mine, and I am not being slow or gentle right now. I’m being rough and energetic, covering his ears, his face, his mouth, and his neck with kisses and rough grooming licks and nips.

The footsteps on the staircase and do not stop or slow my attentions, though his small hands come up and press against my chest. His ears perk up nervously, embarrassed and filled with blood. I kiss his lips, and his eyes are open wide, those honey-colored orbs shining and bright, glazed with passion and desire, longing for my touch and also fearful of being observed in this state.

Ah—it’s the Kiran cat—Asato—who is staying at the inn. I hadn’t realized that he was here—it’s unusual for him to use the stairs. He usually uses the window as his exit and entrance. However, he must have picked up Konoe’s unusually strong scent and chose to use the front door this afternoon. He  _loves_ hanging around my Sanga, and Konoe is kind to him.

He’s probably in for somewhat of a surprise. I am probably the reason Konoe’s scent is as strong as it is right now. I don’t feel bad in the least, although the black cat looks a little sheepish and distressed. I’d understand if I were in his position, I suppose, but I’m not so I don’t, and I don’t really care. Right now, I care about touching Konoe and getting him worked up and responding. And he _is_ responding—sighing softly, murmuring, despite his embarrassment.

“Please—can we move it upstairs? _Please_?” I love that voice. It’s so sweet when he begs.

The Kiran has walked past silently and left through the front door—I wonder if Konoe noticed who it was—I was careful to block his view with my body, but I detected his scent easily enough, and I saw him over Konoe’s shoulder as he came down the stairs, his expression a mixture of jealousy and disappointment.

“Hmm. Perhaps. But will you _behave_ for me?”

“And if I don’t?” Konoe breathes dangerously against my mouth.

“I’ll see what I can do to _make_ you,” I whisper threateningly, with a small smirk.

The door to the kitchen swings open, and it’s the old man. His jaw drops when he sees us—when he sees me, specifically—stroking Konoe’s shapely ass on the counter, on top of the registration book, having pushed aside some papers and pens to the floor in our rush, his legs dangling helplessly on either side of my body.

He grins at us and shakes his head, and Konoe blushes again.

“Please—let’s take it upstairs,” he whispers urgently.  
  
I slip my hands down the back of my lover’s trousers, and he sits up straight in surprise. I am tracing the lines of his hips and the base of his tail—such a lovely waistline, such gorgeous hips, such shapely buttocks—and I shiver at his shy response. Bardo can see exactly what I am doing and he looks slightly annoyed—but he also is watching with envy and lust.

Konoe is a gorgeous creature—he has been cute since he was young—but now he is _beautiful_ —and every cat in Ransen lusts after him. I take advantage of this semi-public place and of his beauty and help myself to his body. He is mine— _all mine_.

“Rai—“ he drops out of character and out of our game for a moment. I wait for a moment, listening for his safe word, but he still hasn’t used it. So I continue the game.

“I’m sorry—have I introduced myself?” I murmur, loud enough so Bardo can hear.

“You two—take it upstairs! Now!” Bardo snaps, continuing to shake his head.

“Please…” Konoe begs so sweetly, I can’t deny him, so I lift him up over my shoulder, and—keeping my hand on the base of his tail, underneath the fabric of his pants—I carry him up the stairs to our room.

My trousers are really snug—I can barely get the key out of my pocket to unlock the door—but once I get him inside, I set him on his feet, standing up.

“I’m still not sure when I agreed to come with you,” he says in a breathless voice.

“You didn’t,” I reply. “But I will convince you.” I pin him against the door with a loud thump, and his fur fluffs out in surprise and an almost fearful response. It’s adorable.

I pin both of his hands over his head, and I start licking his ears again—this time, using more saliva, more roughly, delving in deep into the white fur. He shivers with pleasure and sighs in delight, but I can feel him struggling.

“Ah—please—please—“ he is begging me so sweetly.

“Please what?” I whisper, following my words with my tongue. “You’re such a polite little thing, but if you only beg, I won't know what you want.”

“Ah—"

When we travel, I often beginning our lovemaking sessions with intimate grooming. It makes me feel connected to this cat and it helps me relax. And I know he can feel my emotions when I touch him—it's a gift leftover from his time as an emotional vessel. He can feel my desire for him—and he is easily overwhelmed by his own and my emotions. And not once—in the five years we have been together—has he been able to resist this grooming.

I don’t know if it’s because he can’t get away from me, or because he can’t resist, or because he doesn’t wish to, and I think it’s a real source of annoyance to him. And I cannot _resist_ teasing him. So, while I have him with his arms pinned overhead in one hand…

Turning him around, I push him up against the door, keeping his hands right where they are, breathing hotly on his neck, and I run my hand down his spine, feeling him sigh and tremble beneath my fingers. Picking up his tail at the base with my clawed fingers, I run it through my hand carefully, bringing the tip to my mouth.

“Uwah—what are you doing!? Ah—"

Ignoring his protests, I pop the hooked tip into my mouth and I lick it as if it were a delicious treat, and I see the shiver, a wave moving along his fur, the tremor flowing from the tip of his tail, down to the base and up into his spine. His knees almost buckle, and another gasp comes out of his mouth. I feel him struggling to pull his hands free. 

“Ah, please…”

Using tender grooming strokes, and my fangs, I carefully tend the fur on that hooked tip of his tail, the caramel color almost a honey brown. It fluffs out, making it easy to tend, easy to groom, and ever so lovely. His back is arched, I notice, and his hips rock slightly, and sway slightly side to side, and his knees are trembling, and even his thighs quiver through his clothes.

Such a sensual creature, this one is—as shy and reserved as he appears to be—my Sanga has a wonderful sexual response, and I could probably bring him to orgasm just from licking his tail alone. In fact, right now, he has completely submitted himself to the pleasure he is feeling, no longer fighting the restraint of his hands, but submitting himself to it—and allowing this sensation—allowing me to give him this pleasure. And I want him to feel _more_. 

A growl builds in my chest as I pull his sash from his waist and slide his trousers off his shapely hips. I turn him around again, pressing his back up against the door—this time releasing his hands and holding him in place with the weight of my own body. I bring my mouth down to his navel and inhale his sweet scent, burying my nose in his belly.

A soft giggle reminds me he is ticklish, and he buries his hands in my hair. His laughter is sweet and gentle, youthful and wonderful—it lightens my heart—and I lick him, just below his belly. He caves his abdomen in and laughs out loud, squirming away from the touch, but unable to escape.

I cannot resist the sound of his laughter, and so I continue the gentle grooming strokes against his belly and abdomen. I know if I move lower, my touch will not tickle him nearly so much—but I want to hear his laughter right now. So he continues to laugh, trying to stifle it—apologizing for falling out of the roleplay, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” in between giggles and chuckles and loud guffaws and near screaming laughter.

His body collapses over me, his knees buckle, and he is begging for mercy now—and then I hear it—

“Kuim—Rai—Kuim— _please_ —Rai! Seriously! Kuim! _Kuim_!”

So I stop for a moment, giving him a chance to catch his breath, scooping him up and bringing him to the bed, conveniently with his pants down, and I help him off with his boots as he lies back on the bed. While he catches his breath, I smile down at him and he watches as I continue to strip the rest of his clothes from his exhausted body. 

After a laughing fit like that, he relaxes—almost as much as he does after an orgasm, I notice—and his face is soft and smiling. 

“I broke off our roleplay.” He looks at me with a guilty expression. And then he tries to make an angry face. “But I couldn’t _help_ it! You tickled me!” 

“I wanted to hear you laugh,” I say. “I make no excuses.”

Leaning down once more, to strip off his shirt, and he resists for just a moment—he is naked now, and I am still dressed.

“What _is_ this?” he complains. “This is hardly fair.”

“All right,” I say. I pull off my tall boots and my gear, and then my cape. I turn to face my lover, but before I strip off my shirt, I pull something out of my pocket.

“You know, we did quite well with our last bounty.”

“Did we?” Konoe says, looking at me, his face still soft, his cheeks are flushed, as are his ears. Gods, what a sexy animal!

“Your songs have improved so much.” 

“Do you think so?” He looks a little surprised and sits up in the bed, wrapping his arms around his knees. He often sits like this when he is nude. I think he feels much less exposed this way, and I find it sweet.

“You know, there are many Tougas who envy me—having you as my Sanga,” I say quietly, sitting on the bed next to him. “Not just because of your power. But your song—it moves my heart—it saved me from madness.”

“Rai,” Konoe says, looking up at me. He presses a hand to my chest, extending his claws just a little, just like he did that day in the cave at Mirror Lake, when he made that promise, all those years ago. “I am _your_ Sanga. And you are _my_ Touga.”

“But it's not just your song and your power,” I continue, resting my hand on top of his. “You… have always been adorable.”

Suddenly, his expression changes. He takes his hand away from me suddenly—most definitely in surprise. Have I never said this directly before? Why is he acting so surprised and embarrassed? It's awfully cute. 

“But now—as you’ve gotten older, that cuteness has turned into a beauty that won’t be ignored or denied. There is hardly a cat in Ransen whose eye doesn’t turn in your direction.”

Konoe’s cute little mouth drops open, and I lean down to tenderly kiss his lips—both the top and bottom separately. I can’t resist. 

“N-no. That’s not because of me. They are looking at _you_. Rai, they are looking at the giant silver cat, with the gorgeous long white hair and pale blue eye, with the perfect ass, who is walking beside me. I _know_ that.” His voice is quiet, and he wears a soft smile.

I smile and touch Konoe’s perfect face, stroking his cheek.

“No. They are staring at _you._ And if you open your mouth, letting them hear the sound of your voice, you capture their hearts for life. And yet—you’re here with _me_ —naked.”

Konoe blushes.

“Well, _today_ , you’re only here with me because I physically dragged you away from that bar and _naked_ because I stripped off your clothes.”

He laughs again—a musical timbre—that’s why I love it—it sounds like his song!

“Even if you hadn’t, I would still be here and naked sooner or later.”

“I can be pretty convincing,” I admit.

“No—it’s because I _want_ to be with you.”  
  
I pause for a moment. “So—Antou is around the corner, meaning it’s been close to five years since I saved an ungrateful, directionally-challenged, bratty kitten in the forest from bandits. And I got something to celebrate—and to thank you for putting up with me all this time.”

I press the small box I’ve been holding into Konoe’s hands.

He looks up again, eyes wide, his ears twitching and perking up. When he opens the box, his tail fluffs out in pleasure.

“Rai…”

“It’s just a small token of my appreciation. I’ve heard that Tougas should appreciate their Sangas and, er, buy them trinkets from time to time.”

“Well—you’re willing to play these silly games with me, but I never thought you would do something like this!” Konoe is up on his knees now, ignoring his nudity, which I find adorable.

“Does it fit?”

He slips the ring on the ring finger of his left hand—and the gem sparkles beautifully in the light. It’s a small gold band, elegantly woven, with a colored stone in the center. The stone is bright and beautiful. I’m not sure exactly what kind it is, but to me, it reminds me of the light his song produces—warm, clear, perfect, and bright.

“It’s perfect!” He smiles brightly, and he looks like the kitten I first met. He also kisses me—in a way very _unlike_ the kitten I first met. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. And thank you.” I whisper.

“So… can we continue our game?” Konoe asks shyly. 

“What would you like to do, exactly?” I ask.

“Ah—you’re going to make me _ask_ for it?!” He is blushing.

“Of course!” I tease. I love seeing him blush. 

“Well, I sort of enjoyed the rough stuff—and the restraint. Could we try more of that?”  
  
“Restraint?” I ask. “Like… our first time?”

“Um… maybe even rougher than that?” Konoe asks, unable to look at me directly at first. But when I don’t say anything, he peeps up his eyes through dark lashes. Those gold eyes are _smoldering._  

“I will oblige.”

“Hmm.” Konoe shivers a little.

Looking around the room for a moment, I pull a belt off my outfit, holding it up for Konoe’s inspection. I lift my eyebrows.

He nods.I bind his hands in front of his chest with the belt.

I stand up and strip off my shirt, and I feel my Sanga’s eyes following my every move. I remember when he would sneak a peek at me now and then—so it’s nice that he feels free to watch now. And I put on a bit of a show. I also slip out of my trousers, fluffing up my fur proudly.

When I join him on the bed, naked, Konoe lifts his bound hands up to stop me from kissing him.

“Wait.” 

“What is it?” I ask. He looks away for a moment, before looking at me directly again.  _Ah, what's this? Another shy request?_

“May I have a blindfold?” he asks, very quietly.

I’m shocked, but I’m game. I use his sash and tie it behind his head, very gently.

“Remember to tell me if it gets to be too much,” I whisper and then kiss his lips.

He nods, but his body is trembling slightly.

His senses are probably in overdrive with his vision blocked—now he will feel and hear and smell so much more vividly, so I take care to touch him carefully, running my hands over his skin, enjoying the feeling of his skin.

“Ah,” he murmurs very softly, his cheeks blushing sweetly. “Um. You don’t have to take me gently.”

 _What’s this?_ I’m not so sure about this.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what I said,” Konoe says. “I mean… um, take me hard, like you mean it. Maybe—you brought me home from the bar… and you just, um, you know, don't care if I want to comply or not…” 

His words make me shiver. So, I pull his taut body up over my lap and smack his ass—hard—and he gasps and sighs—in pleasure! His tail fluffs out fully, and his mouth opens, and he licks his lips.

“Oh gods, yes! _Please_!”

“This is what you get when you leave bars with cats you barely know,” I hiss, and his ear flattens against his head. I can feel his heart pounding against my lap. I rub his ass and stroke his tail, I spread his legs apart so I can caress between his thighs.

I give his curvy rump another few slaps, stroking him right after—making him gasp in surprise and hoping that my caresses will distribute the stinging pain into the blood pooling in that area. I know he wants to rub his butt, right after I spank him, but he can’t—not with his hands bound. 

“Why don’t you bend over the bed?” I suggest, purring in my voice. 

He obeys compliantly, keeping his bound hands under his chest.

“Keep your hands over your head, where I can see them.”

I spank him again, right at the spot where his legs and thighs meet, and he makes a wonderful mewling sigh, rubbing himself up against the bed lewdly. 

“I want you standing, little one,” I whisper. “On your feet.” I encourage him to stand, so he can’t rub himself against the bed—and he is suddenly frustrated, his ears perking up, tail lashing.

I grab a little lube from the side of the bed, and I paint over his entrance lightly. He shivers in surprise. I know he said not to take him gently, but there’s no way I won’t prepare him. I won't hurt him.

I spread his legs with my other hand, stroking in between his thighs—everything but his dick, really—while I press inside with one lubricated finger. He easily accepts me, arching his back, and eagerly pressing his dick up against the bed, rubbing against it.

As soon as he does, I pull my finger out of his body, yank upward at the base of his tail, making him gasp in surprise, and smack his ass again—hard. I take care to immediately stroke his tail after slapping his tender skin, distracting him from the stinging pain, so he purrs in pleasure.

He resumes his proper position, arching his back and exposing himself to me.

“There’s a good kitty,” I praise him, and push my finger inside his warmth again. He is willing and eager in a way I haven’t found him in a long time—and after I have two fingers scissoring him apart, he is rubbing himself disobediently on the mattress once again.

So again, I pull out of him, yank the base of his tail upward toward the ceiling to straighten out his hips and pull him away from the bed and give him two solid smacks right at his sit spot before distributing the sting.

To my surprise, a cry comes out of his mouth, and I’m shocked—and a little terrified—to hear it. _Shit—was it pain? Did I actually hurt him?_ My heart flutters up to my throat. But it’s followed by a luscious sounding purring sigh and an “oh, gods,” so I think we are all good. 

Loosening him up is my primary goal, so I continue working him with both fingers, occasionally pulling on his tail with my other hand, which makes him grunt and bristle and sigh with pleasure. I stroke everywhere around his hips and legs except his cock. His claws are drawn, and when I am I’m about to add a third finger, he shakes his head and growls lowly.

“Just _fuck_ me. _Hard_.”

 _What is happening to my Sanga? Who is this person?_  

I can live with it, however—and a flash of heat tears through my chest when I press myself against that soft, willing entrance. His skin radiates with heat—probably from the spankings—and then he suddenly pushes his hips back against me, taking my breath away, as I slide inside him, effortlessly—and he swallows me up inside his body.

Just like when he sings—except I’m immersed in his physical body—engulfed in him—and while this position may look like I’m taking him, I feel taken and surrounded, overwhelmed by him.

"Konoe..."

The sounds coming from his lips are getting louder and invading my ears, and when I open my eyes, I see his bound hands on the mattress, holding himself out to press himself against me. His thighs are trembling slightly and his tail is quivering at the tip, and completely stiff at the base. 

As soon as I catch my breath, I gently stroke his hips and thighs, his ass, his lower back, and, leaning over his back toward those ears, tipped back in my direction, I murmur, “Now, this won’t do. This is not submissive. Not at _all_ submissive.”

A small whine leaks from his lips—mixed with a purr—and sounds so absolutely desperate—and he allows me to gently guide him back toward the bed, resting his torso on the mattress comfortably, so he is supported there with ease. His legs have more support this way, too. And they will need it—in just a moment. He displays his bound hands over his head, helplessly, as if to demonstrate his vulnerability and submission.

I pull myself out of him and thrust back in—snapping my hips against him in a single sharp thrust—and it takes his breath away, leaving him gasping and on his tiptoes.

I pull out and thrust in again—another single stroke—hard and fast before he can catch his breath—and he makes another gasping cry—this time arching his back, lifting up that tail enticingly, the base quivering as if to ask for more. 

Pressing my thumbs at his entrance now—his skin so soft and pliant, and wet—a mewling sound comes out as he melts under my fingers. 

“Please…” I hear him begging. A shiver rushes over my skin when I hear that sound. 

Now, I angle myself up a little, and thrust in and out a little more slowly, but still snap my hips with force. Something close to a scream tears from his lips, and I see him turning his head to the side, resting it on the mattress. 

“Please—gods—right there—please…”

Those cheeks are pink—both sets of them, actually—and his ears—and the base of his tail, which I give a little tug—and I start thrusting without stopping, without mercy.

“Ah—yes—ah—gods—yesss..."

The sounds coming from him are like a song—music to my ears—and I wonder exactly when he changed from “no, wait” to “yes, please” in our sex play—and when I started to pay such close attention to his cues. He is such a different creature now, and I love this luscious, crazy side of him.

Tears stream down his face and he is breathless with pleasure, and I continue pounding into his body when I see his tail change its movement to that particular slow undulating movement it does just before he’s about to come. He doesn't need to tell me, but he does, and I _love_ to hear it. It makes my ears twitch.

“Ah—Rai—soon—I’m going to come—Rai…”

And that’s my sign to touch as much of him as I possibly can with as much of my body as I can. I know he loves it—he’s said as much. So I wrap my arms around his body, both hands flat against his skin, mostly to stabilize his body, because I’m honestly a little worried about how hard I am fucking him—I want to make sure I don’t hurt him. My legs are flush with his and our skin is touching—the front of my thighs touching the backs of his, my knees touching the delicate skin behind his knees, even my lower legs touching his calves—I even push my feet up underneath the soles of his feet, lifting him up off the floor, so he is standing on the top of me. Finally, I wrap my tail around his swaying tail.

When he comes, it’s like a symphony. I almost always get slightly distracted from my own pleasure just listening to his climax, and I watch him this time, too—the panting, gasping cries are building and building to a crescendo and suddenly explode, close to a scream. His body stiffens, his knees lock, and he clenches his insides around me so tightly that I can hardly move.

This nearly always bring me over the edge—not just the physical touch inside his body—but watching him come undone, watching him release—watching this nervous, anxious creature release his sexual energy so freely in my presence is an amazing sight. It is incredibly arousing to see him experience such freedom in expressing sexual pleasure. And he feels so good, his body is so alive and warm, pulsing around me. I release inside of him, climaxing with a growl, my claws baring reflexively, to my surprise, so I quickly move them to either side of his body, so I don’t scratch his beautiful skin.

He seems shocked that I break contact so suddenly and he looks up at me, but he is still blindfolded, so he smiles when he realizes he can’t see me. 

I’m exhausted, but I don’t collapse on top of him. Instead, I carefully pull myself out, and then I lie down heavily on the bed next to him. I struggle to retract my claws and I can't. I wonder if it's from taking him so roughly? Usually, I have much more control over my body, and I'm a little surprised, and maybe slightly embarrassed, by my reaction.

“That was fun,” Konoe says, turning toward me, and curling up his body.

“Let me get these for you,” I murmur. I untie the blindfold, using my still-drawn claws to do it, and I watch his beautiful eyes blink several times, still soft and glazed with passion. Then I move to his wrists, and I kiss his fingers when I undo the belt, dropping both the belt and sash carelessly over the side of the bed. Konoe strokes my fangs with his fingers. Ah—my fangs are exposed, too?

He throws his arms around me to give me a deep kiss—he tastes delicious—I can often taste his scent when we fuck, even if it isn't the mating season—a sweet blend of honey and orange blossoms—soft and floral—and he makes me salivate. Then, he lifts his hand up for a moment. 

I find his pose slightly odd—till I realize he is looking at the ring reflecting in the late afternoon moonlight. Then, I have to smile. It's a very Konoe-like thing to do.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmurs. 

“Was that all right for you?” I ask, slightly nervous. He is acting normal, pleased and satisfied. But that was much rougher than anything we’ve done before—at least… since we have been playing these games of his. 

“It was _perfect_.” Konoe looks at me when he makes his declaration. Then he rolls over next to me in the bed. “You know, I was hoping you might do something like that to me at the bar.”

I laugh out loud. I know he must be teasing now—because it’s only recently that he has allowed me to touch him sexually in a public place, and only when we play his “game.” 

“What?” he asks, his eyes sparkling. “I couldn’t stop _thinking_ about it. You were pushing me up against that bar like you were going to take me right _there_. It made me so hot I could hardly stand it!” 

“Really?” I think about this for a moment. Perhaps I should touch him more? Be more physical with him in public? “I thought it embarrassed you. Are you saying you would enjoy it if I touched you more?”

“I am,” he admits. “Please.”

“I too am giving you permission to touch me as you like in public,” I state, turning his small body around and pulling it toward me. I have an urgent need to groom his ears. “Your fur is messy.” It isn't, but I need to groom those ears. Now. Compulsively.

“I have the cleanest ears of any cat in this city,” Konoe retorts, but submits nonetheless, snuggling in close to my chest.

“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?” I ask again, after a few minutes.  
  
“Did it _sound_ like you were hurting me?” Konoe asks, keeping his gaze forward. His ears blush.

I chuckle lightly. “It sounded like music to my ears.” My hands slip a little lower and stroke his bottom, which is still surprisingly hot to the touch. “You are still warm here.”

He pushes himself back against me—pressing his body up against my hips so I can’t stroke that part of him as I would like.

“You concentrate on my _ears_ for now,” he orders. “I’m going to take a quick nap, and _that_ is distracting.”

“You’d better do that. I’m sure Bardo and the rest of the guests will have plenty of questions for you at dinner,” I murmur.

“Questions?” He yawns sleepily, his body relaxing against me.

“Like—what all that racket was—the pounding on the door, the screaming, the spanking sounds…”

More instant pink now, and his body suddenly stiffens, and I even earn myself a glare. “You’re _not_ helping me relax.”  
  
I smile. “But an uninhibited Sanga is such a beautiful thing.”

“One of these days, Rai, I _will_ be as bold as you. And _that_ will be a scary thing. For _you_. You won't know what to do with me. I guarantee it.”

It’s a threat. Issued lovingly, but a threat nonetheless. It makes me shiver in anticipation.

“You’ve come so far already. I hope that’s a promise. Perhaps during the next mating season?” I whisper into the ear I’m grooming gently. I can't help purring now.

“Hmmpf.” It’s the only reply I get in return, but I hear him purring, too.


End file.
